


Pretty Please

by tzigane, Zaganthi (Caffiends)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Begging, Kink Bingo 2013, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-30
Updated: 2013-10-30
Packaged: 2017-12-30 22:11:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1023969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tzigane/pseuds/tzigane, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffiends/pseuds/Zaganthi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Would you just. Would you just please, please." He didn't even know how to beg properly anymore; he was scattered and shaking, trembling, and he had no idea what time it was or if it was even the same day. It didn't feel like the same week. "Please, I need this to be done."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty Please

He was going to die before Severus let him out of bed. He was sure of it, that this was his punishment for some past indiscretion, that he was going to be fucked and fondled and stroked to death, that he'd shake himself to pieces.

"Please. Please, sir, please, Severus, please. Please, no more." No more, and it wasn't that he was in pain. It would be ridiculous if he were because he slept with a fucking potions genius, a man so brilliant that he had managed to fake his death and hide from the entire magical world for years before Draco had stumbled across him at a bazaar in South America.

Right at the moment, he honestly wished that he hadn't. Hadn't, because it had been hours. Hours, and he had come three times, _three_. His balls were empty and twitching and hurt, and his ass was fucked open and wide, and he just ached everywhere. Ached and wanted it to stop, but he also hated for it to end, just a little.

He wandered back into the room with a glass of wine in hand and a relaxed expression that made Draco want to howl. "Yes?"

"Would you just. Would you just please, please." He didn't even know how to beg properly anymore; he was scattered and shaking, trembling, and he had no idea what time it was or if it was even the same day. It didn't feel like the same week. "Please, I need this to be done." He didn't want to come again, he didn't, but he was still so hard. Hard and hot and sweaty and Draco thought he might well kill someone if they stood between him and the bath once this was finally done. "Please, I can't. I can't."

Then again, as worn thin as he felt, he might not have the energy to bathe.

"You can't.... take anymore? Come again?" Severus was smirking slowly as he sidled into the room. "Specifics, Draco."

"I hate you!" Seething, yes, and that was stupid. "I hate you, Severus, I hate you, I can't. Please, please stop. Please, n... uh!" Uh, because that was touch, that was hands sliding over him, so many, and he couldn't help sobbing.

Severus was smirking and drinking, smiling as he sidled in closer and added his fingers to the touch against Draco's flank. "Beg. Make me know how ready you are."

Fucking Merlin. How, how could he, how, there was no way that he could, he couldn't do more than he already had, and he was fairly certain that he babbled out something nearly hysterical. It was a combination of whimpers and sobs and, "Please, please, please, please. I can't, I can't, I need, I need this to be over, I can't anymore, I can't!"

"You can't what?" Fuck, fucking tease, he was going to rip Severus to pieces if he didn't break the spell soon, because everything ached and hurt and he was sheathed in sweat and cold and over-warm.

"I can't anymore. I can't, it's too much, I can't." It was a gibber, he knew it, and the sweat mingled with tears, and he couldn't stop shaking. "I can't take anymore, please!"

He felt the ghostly brush of lips against his skin, and then it all stopped with the weight of a train crashing. Just stopped, and the sensation on his skin, his dick, his ass, fell away. The sudden loss of sensation was orgasmic, utter bliss, and Draco couldn't help crying out because fuck. Fuck, he was coming again, and he laid there, gasping desperately for breath, exhausted and trembling and drenched in bodily fluids.

Severus pressed loose fingers against his back, tracing his spine before offering the wine glass to him in a slow motion. "Drink."

More like guzzle, a desperate need to slake his thirst, and he whined in between every swallow, trembling. It tasted dry, bitter and sharp, too strong a red to be chugged like that, and somewhere in there it began to turn to water.

By the time he couldn't drink anymore, the most he could do was go limp and tremble. Honestly, Draco was fairly certain that it would be a miracle if he moved for days. "Hate you." Except he didn't, and from the utterly pleased expression he could see through bleary exhausted eyes it was apparent that Severus knew that.

"If you were less stubborn, I'd have to put in less effort to hear those noises from you," he countered, a drawl, a bare sound of amusement as he stroked Draco's flank.

"Despise you," he moaned, and shivered, oversensitive and still catching his breath. "You mad, fantastic man."


End file.
